


Hopeful Silence

by Lettuce_B



Category: Ni no Kuni II: Revenant Kingdom (Video Game)
Genre: :), Au snippet in second chapter, Dlc mentioned, I have control of the timeline now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28185579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lettuce_B/pseuds/Lettuce_B
Summary: [It felt like he was waking up from being blacked out.It also felt like he should be hurting—for some reason—which only further supported that theory.But why would he be passed out at—where?—(in) a very fancy room, according to the carpet.With a child.Where was he?]Me, handing this to the nnk2 ao3 fandom consisting of 4 alive people, gift wrapped: :)Said fandom: “wow...an [like 10k fanfic of the prologue. That has already been written so many times before]... thanks”
Relationships: Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Roland Crane, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Bracken Meadows, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Tani, Leander Aristides & Roland Crane, Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Tani (Ni no Kuni), Roland Crane & William Crane, Roland Crane/Roland's Wife, Tani (Ni no Kuni) & Aranella (Ni no Kuni)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you asking, I don’t know what this either, but it’s here.
> 
> Ig the closest thing is like. Retelling + whatever my brain said/  
> Retelling + headcanons + changed dialogue + whatever else  
> But only for the prologue part because I’m impatient  
> The second chapter is other scenes (?) that are also in this note but don’t fit in the actual story so. New chapter :)
> 
> **Also, idk if it’s obvious, but, disregarding dialogue, past tense is Roland’s pov, present is Evan’s  
> It doesn’t switch every time after the ———
> 
> I’d hoped it was obvious, but I went back and read and it may not be
> 
> Also, imo, how it’s read > grammar rules  
> I’m not this bad I promise, but this isn’t for school so. Suffer  
> And if I am that bad, you’ll never know
> 
> Apologies if I made this confusing
> 
> Any feedback is appreciated
> 
> Brofist

The silence of the car ride would’ve been nice if it didn’t make his thoughts seem louder.

It felt like everything was in his grasp but still spiraling out of control, the fact that that was a constant feeling didn’t make it any better. Just one more meeting with stuffy old people and he could sleep. Maybe. If the pills decide to work this time. Except those were very important stuffy old people (that he was also a part of, and making them a “them” wasn’t fair. But they were totally more stuffy than he was, according to Will, which was high praise and totally fair.)

Maybe if he just tried to think about nothing then he’d magically be sitting in the—mildly uncomfortable—chair, in front of said highly important, stuffy old people, making very important decisions that impact the world, and that would just be great. 

Except it wasn’t, so he had to continue to sit in this—mildly uncomfortable—car seat.

But the universe pitied him, and he got a text from Alex, which was a true blessing and welcome distraction right now.

_ >Good luck with your meeting! Will says hi and that he’ll try and stay awake until you finish up! _

And there was a picture of them, and they both look really tired, but they also looked so happy that the tension in his frame loosened, a bit. Maybe. 

It felt like a sign, though, that maybe it would go well, and he could see their faces again and finally sleep. And that, maybe, everything would work out.

So, of course, that’s when everything went wrong.

(Should’ve known better)

———

It’s raining on his coronation day.

The most important day of his life and it’s raining (he hates rain) and thundering (thunder is _worse_ ) and bright and flashy and _loud_ and he just wants it to be done.

Rain is the worst, it always makes his fur stick to him. His tail just feels like a paperweight and can’t move without getting water everywhere—which is just annoying. And the lightning makes him all _jumpy_ and his fur wants to stick up—double annoying. 

Plus, according to Nella—and the stories—rain is a bad omen. It always rains when things are sad or people die (it rained when Father died). 

That’s three whole bad things.

How is he even thinking about this—his coronation is _today_. It’s all about the rain when it’s _his_ day, and the rain just had to show up and make his thoughts even more annoying and spiral-y and not-think-y (because he keeps having to be _reminded_ , and he doesn’t need help with that). 

Maybe if he just gets good enough he can magic the rain away so he can think.

Nella always knows when he feels like this, she’s always there for him and was always there for him, but she’s not here _now_. 

(Which makes sense, the kingdom is more important than he is today, but it’s always worse alone) 

And maybe he could just go hug her or something, or she could brush his hair like she likes to do, or something. Even if interrupting is bad manners, she’ll understand, she always does. Anything to get out of this empty room (and away from the rain).

So he’s just going to go do that, and it’s fine (even though he’s going to be a King today, but that’s not—technically—true until the ceremony, so he can be weak one more time).

But then when he almost gets to the door, the thunder decides to be loud again (but the thunder sounds _weird_ ) and bright and (blinding—).

And there is a man in his room.

———

It felt like he was waking up from being blacked out.

It also felt like he should be hurting—for some reason—which only further supported that theory.

But why would he be passed out at—where?—(in) a very fancy room, according to the carpet. 

With a child. 

A child with cat ears.

And—very old fashioned clothes.

Where was he?

(Did he say that out loud?)

Somewhere, in his mind, his thoughts were screaming (or maybe that was just his ears ringing) but he didn’t really have time to decipher those right now, so if he could just focus on the where—

And the kid was pointing a knife at him—a _knife_. Who gave him that—granted it looked like a fancy butter knife, not sharp and very non-threatening, but non-threatening was not what his posture said (and the _tail_ ).

Who was going around giving children knives? Also why did his name not sound real? Something _Pettiwhisker Tildrum_. Where in the hell was he?

(He said that one out loud too)

And then he looked in the mirror and everything seemed to stop.

———

The man.

Is on the floor.

And he looks—confused? Maybe? 

He’s encountered assassins and kidnappers before, (but Nella was always with him) but none that just sit there or question the location of the assassin/kidnap-ing.

Though, none of the previous intruders have _entered his room via lost magics_ either, so maybe he shouldn’t make assumptions.

But the guy just looks really lost so it feels wrong to use fireball or anything—

Except.

He doesn’t have his staff.

And the coronation keeps making it worse. _Of course_ his staff was necessary for the ceremony (for dumb reasons—because apparently you can’t forge a kingsbond with ‘any old stick’, isn’t that what the mark is for? _Traditions_ )

He has a knife though! And he should say something? Nella always said to introduce yourself before asking questions to people, but do manners apply to—confused and maybe super powerful—assassins? 

None have ever tried to talk back to him before (it usually goes: ‘why are you here? What do you want?’ Because hurting people is scary and bad, and he’s reasonable, but they never ~~listen~~ _answer_ ) and Nella isn’t here so how is he supposed to _know_?

It’s safer to use rules so, introduction, then question.

And the guy just brushes that _off_ , so no manners (and weird accent)? He really just wants Nella here right now. 

But when the guy looks at the mirror he looks _mortified_ , so maybe Nella wouldn’t be a good idea. She’s way more scary than mirrors. 

Scary assassin people looking scared has always been confusing to him. They’re never scared of _him_ , it’s always Nella, or the fire his staff can make, or apparently their own reflection, but never him. 

(Not that he’d hurt them! He always—always!—tried to talk first, until Nella told him he shouldn’t do that) 

Not even when he’s holding a threatening knife and using his scary ordering voice and his tail feels two times bigger—which is very threatening _and_ scary—and this man should be _scared_ but he’s just _not_ and he’s leaving—ignoring him? 

Which is not what the intruders do. They haven’t done that since Father was alive.

(And Father’s not alive and this man should know that! Why isn’t he _listening_? What does he _want_?)

———

He finally got out of the small—cat?—child’s—very fancy—room, and he just needed a moment because nothing felt right. Like he was in a dream or something. Slightly weightless. But that also felt physical, as in ‘I maybe weigh less’, lighter, (was it the de-aging? Which—was just another thing in the long list of: things to unpack later, not now) and not just the fuzzy head feeling, which was oddly absent.

At least his phone still worked.

The text was still there.

Still there? He’d seen that before, in a car. 

Right?

Which was not the que for his head to start hurting, but when has his head ever listened. (Another benefit to the de-aging, his head had—sparse—moments of not-aching, which were great and very welcome)

And the kid was back and sort-of-screaming at him when the ground _shifted_. The noise set off not only a, predictable, fight or flight response, but a, very _un_ predictable, real and immediate, aching horror. And the memory seemed _right there_ but slipping through his fingers (like so many things) and he just wanted a moment to _breathe_. 

The kid did not look much better. And the kid looked too (much like Will) young and terrified, so he just—grabbed the kid by the hand, because he shouldn’t be in the vicinity of—explosions?. Which he (something Pettiwhisker Tildrum) clearly didn’t like (did he just _hiss_?) so a motion to follow, fast, was the next best thing.

The kid (seriously, he could remember Pettiwhisker and Tildrum but not the name the kid went by. Or did he go by Pettiwhisker? Tildrum? Would asking be rude?) pointedly, did not (knife, pointedly, in _his_ direction).

“I want to know what’s going on as much as you do, but we can’t if we stay here. You’re a King right? So let’s go get your guards”

And he looked, not convinced—it was definitely an ‘I-don’t-have-a-choice-and-I-hate-it’ look, or, as Alex had put it, a pout with some dignity—but he followed. 

He did so from a very obvious distance—with the knife—but he did. 

One (1) good thing had happened. 

It was very quickly ruined by another—explosion? Earthquake? The thing that _shook the ground_. Whatever it was, earth-shaking anythings are usually good signs to not stay in the vicinity of earth being shook.

The kid said he was a King, but there weren’t any guards around, or servants, or people in general. He did say something about a ceremony, and, according to the kid’s expression, the explosions were not a part of said ceremony. 

Something was going wrong.

Yet more things to add to the long list of questions for the universe. 

He hadn’t had a moment to just think yet—his head was still hurting, more than usual, so it was bad—but he was also, admittedly, a bit terrified of what might happen if he does stop to think, so he just kept running down this—very long—staircase. With a small cat child. In a castle. While there were _explosions_. And he didn’t feel nearly as tired as he should have because of being _de-aged_. 

He couldn’t put any more pressure on the—apparently very important—child, and he was an expert at pushing his emotions aside, so he’d just do that, and not ask questions. 

Yet.

The fact that doing that was the closest to ‘normal’ he’d gotten didn’t bode well for when he _did_ decide to ask questions, but that was for later, not now.

———

The man is just _ignoring him_ (looking at some weird glow-y blue brick? Should he be scared of that?) and he still hasn’t introduced himself, but apparently rules don’t matter and—

The ground is shaking.

And there’s loud noises and the thunder got _inside_ and the man is _still_ there and making a face like he didn’t do this—

Why isn’t Nella _here_?

The kingdom is in danger, but he’s in danger too. She should be here. He shouldn’t be alone with nobody except scary _lost magics_ assassin guy who brings _thunder_ (the _worst!_ ) inside of _his_ castle.

Everything needs to stop but nothing’s _listening_ (like all the time because he’s _too young_ —it’s not like he _decided_ Father should leave! Father did that on his own.) when the man grabs him! He is a king. He will not be _handled_! 

(Unless they’re Nella, or Ratja, or any of the nice people, or anyone that isn’t a _scary lost magics maybe assassin_ ) 

The hiss is unintentional but his point is still proven. 

And the man has the gall to—make sense! When nothing makes sense right now! 

(But the man doesn’t try to grab him again after he said not to, he _listened_ )

(And suddenly he’s feeling mildly more trusting)

(For no reason)

(He still has his knife though! Just in case)

———

The kid’s name was still bugging him. 

It felt like it was _right there_ , but just out of reach. Which, while that was how most of his recent memories seemed right now, that didn’t mean he liked it.

There was—very not-quiet—whispering coming from behind the door at the end of the hallway, which, in his experience, was never a great sign. They were trying to hide something from someone down said hallway, and the only person present had been the very important—but for some reason alone—child. (It was, however, preferable to actual-quiet whispering, because those people had practice _and_ something to hide).

Hiding behind the door wouldn’t do much if those guys walked in, which they were going to, so he’d have to probably take one down and—

The kid just— _Evan_ —ran in there.

(They were saying it was _“too easy!”_ This was clearly a _planned_ attack _they_ were in on! Didn’t those cat ears count for _something_ )

It was just how his arm reacted, he wasn’t even aware of what he did until he was in front of the kid again, his gun was out (and hot), and there was a body. 

And the two others present shared the same look the sane part of his mind gave him, he schooled it faster though. 

(Even though he just maybe murdered a man—mouse man? It was still equally bad.) 

(In his defense, though, your honor, they were about to stab a child, which is objectively worse.)

But that other guard was still there and he’d leave for backup if he didn’t do something—

(It’s a good thing Will wanted to try out fencing when he got better, or he would’ve been seriously out of shape. The whole de-aging thing probably helped too)

The second one collapsed, unconscious, and he didn’t really know what to do next. Should he kill him? A mildly disturbing thought to be the first one to think of, and definitely not a habit to make, but if he woke up he’d tell people. Then, the sane part of his brain made an appearance again, because there’s a _child_ that didn’t need to see any of that and what is he _doing_ —

(And those were guards—according to King cat child.

The _King’s_ guards.

Who were about to _stab their King._

And none of that was good)

But the kid didn’t get it, and he was yelling for help which wouldn’t work if the ‘help’ would _run you through—_

(But sometimes kids didn’t get it, and yelling at a child out of frustration—and the contributing headache—wouldn’t help anything. He did have to take a deep breath, though)

“Can’t you see? It’s a coup”

And no, the kid couldn’t see that, he looked like that wasn’t in the realm of possibility.

(Oddly fitting that the King is a cat and the people are mice)

But there were more people coming, and he really didn’t want to have to commit more crimes than necessary, so they had to move. 

“Come on, we’re getting out of here”

———

Maybe the trust should be revoked, because only a scary _murder_ man could just— _murder_ one of his guards with a loud, evil, _murdering device_. The look he gives the other when he goes down is _not helping._

(Nella always told him after the guards took away the assassins that they wouldn’t hurt him anymore, but he wasn’t stupid. They had dungeons for a reason. 

And this _wasn’t_ the same because those were _his_ guards—who were going to kill him—and they were _good people_ —they didn’t save him—and that man has _no right_ to look like she does after she tells him that)

_-If you want to ask someone a question, it’s polite to introduce yourself first, and shake hands, it’s good manners._

_-Assassins are dangerous (and shouldn’t be talked to, Evan)_

_-Guards are there to protect you._

_-People listen to their King._

_-( ~~I’ll always be there when you need me.~~ )_

Why are all of the rules _breaking?_

It’s not fair that the _intruder_ is protecting the _King_ from _his own guards._

And of course he forgot the word for that, ‘a coup’.

(In stories that only happens to bad Kings, but apparently the rules don’t matter)

The man wants to leave (even though _he_ actually _decided_ to get in this mess) and he just—he doesn’t pout—Kings don’t pout. He’s very kingly and important and this man shouldn’t be ordering him around like a child that he _isn’t supposed to be today._

(But if the guards aren’t respecting him why would an intruder.)

So he follows, and he hates it, because he should know— _something_. He should at least be able to give the orders but everything is falling apart. 

Like the walls in this hallway, but the dust isn’t supposed to be part of it which makes his nose all twitchy and—

And—

There are—

His people are—

(He isn’t stupid, but he never had to watch them die. He hadn’t seen a dead person until today, if you don’t count Father, and he can’t count Father, not yet, because he isn’t _gone—_

But these people are)

And the intruder is saying something but he doesn’t really want to hear anything right now. 

He doesn’t know if the man realizes, but he shifts so that he faces Evan (he hid the sword too, weird)

“You said your name was Evan, right?”—Did he not hear? Why does he sound like he’s actually asking—“I’m Roland”

He doesn’t offer his hand or anything, so only half of that rule is followed, and very late, but that’s more than anyone has done today, except the rain, but the rain doesn’t count.

He nods at the man (Roland).

(Why aren’t you here, Nella?)

———

Before this moment, he’d felt bad about killing the guard earlier (well, more about the whole murder-being-witnessed-by-a-child thing) but now, he definitely felt worse. Because Evan’s—very understandable—expression when they walked into a hallway full of bodies was not something he’d forget easily. 

It felt oddly silent, and his thoughts were allowed to wander, which was dangerous and not what either of them needed.

“It seems this is where the explosions went off,” or one of them, at least, no wonder they were so loud. 

Evan didn’t answer, which, while he didn’t know the kid well, didn’t seem like a particularly good sign. 

The talking was a much needed distraction for both of them, it seemed.

Evan had given his name a while ago, though, so it was only fair, and that seemed to snap him out of it, which was good.

“And you’re the King, right? King Evan?”

Which seemed to snap him out of it even more, double good, the look he gave Roland, however, was not.

He deflated quickly, though, “yes, I think? I mean—I was supposed to be, I don’t really know what’s going on.” 

He just sounded really lost, and the feeling was definitely reciprocated, both physically and mentally. (Spiritually too? Maybe. Why not.)

“Ding Dong Dell has been at peace for generations” and at that he had to physically repress a laugh. It still came out as a sort of humorless chuckle, though, which earned him a confused look.

While, theoretically, that answered the where, that didn’t really help, especially when it essentially confirmed that he’s not anywhere near Andoria and in some dream? (His mind supplied coma, which was not helpful and not an option that should’ve sounded reasonable) There was no _Ding Dong Dell_ anywhere. 

Was this a lucid dream? The bruises didn’t feel fake. 

How did he stop the dreaming?

“Yeah, well, still waters run deep”, and the kid just looked even more confused, so, “I should know, I run a country myself.” 

The fact that some part of him supplied ‘ran’ was not comforting. He wasn’t gone, this was just very a immersive dream (coma?), or something. (Afterlife was at the bottom of his list of ideas, and shouldn’t’ve still been on it, but a part of him couldn’t rule it out and that was the part he doesn’t want to hear) 

He just needed to stop thinking and move, the conversation wasn’t helping.

Staying still would only make them more vulnerable, anyway.

———

(He knew castles were meant to be grand, but were this many rooms and hallways necessary)

———

(“Those are elite guardsman, see, the uniforms”

So those would just do the stabbing faster, definitely best to sneak past, then.)

———

(Why _were_ the guards mice? Were they even actually mice? Were those ears real?)

———

(The little hitches and tuts when a branch—or leaf, or whatever it was—caught the kid’s tail were not doing wonders for the sneaking)

———

(Maybe those mouse ears _were_ fake)

———

Two paths, and luck was not on his side today, so he wasn’t guessing.

“You know the way?”

Evan nodded, “the layout is meant to confuse people when there’s an attack.”

A pause, and much quieter, “from the outside.”

Maybe he wasn’t as good at masking expressions as he thought, he’d have to work on that.

———

Luck wasn’t on either of their sides, apparently, because the doors just closed behind them.

In a room full of guards.

Maybe he could permit a couple more crimes, if it came to that.

(The steps and strikes were almost satisfying to perform. 

Almost, because this wasn’t for sport, and the being-outnumbered thing wasn’t helping either.)

There were three _unconscious_ —the less instilled trauma on the young child, the better—guards at his feet. And, for a moment, there was relief. Before four new blades were being brandished on the other side of the room (and did that woman have a staff? Was there magic now?).

(Apparently yes, because there was a _giant fireball_ whizzing straight at—)

The heat grazed his back, nearly singing the cotton under, and that was meant for _a child_. Evan himself looked completely out of it—the kid was shaking and not breathing right from under him, so this all needed to stop.

The gun was out again, because he didn’t care if she died now, but it didn’t matter because of the wave that just—the bullets just _disappeared(?)_. And she was doing something. Probably not good. (Because anybody who would shoot a _giant fireball_ at a twelve-year-old could not be doing anything well with _threatening magical chants)_

But before he could do anything helpful ( _or stupid_ , the part of him that sounded like Alex added), the—mage? Sorceress? Fireball lady had collapsed (either dead or unconscious, and he didn’t care to check, because if she was just unconscious, he probably would do something stupid).

A woman had stood over the mage before taking out the rest of the guards with—a dagger, that looked no better than the glorified butter knife Evan had held earlier. 

Who was she?

According to Evan’s expression, the answer to all of their problems.

(He could try to reserve judgement, but, to be fair, she was pretty impressive)

———

“Sorry, Evan, I came as quickly as I could”, and she’s here, _finally_ , and if he hugs her a little forcefully—and maybe purring a bit, even though purring is ‘not kingly’—then it’s fine because she’s _here._

She’s checking him over for bruises (or burns) which—he doesn’t have, “It’s ok Nella, Roland has been protecting me.”

And Roland gets directed with _the look_ , the one any intruder gets, before she turns back, eyebrow raised.

A cough, from the person in question, “actually, I don’t know how I got here either,” and _what?_

How does someone accidentally lost magic their way into the King’s room on the day of a coronation? 

(And coup, but thinking about that hurts, so he’s going to just not for as long as he can)

But, he’s been saved by Roland many times now, so—

He doesn’t have to ask though, Nella’s eyes soften as they meet his (because she knows! And she listens! Which is why he’s so glad she’s here.)

“Well then, Roland, if his majesty sees you as an ally, then as do I,” and the tension audibly leaves (thank the makers, because Nella can be scary), “forgive my suspicion, it’s merely my duty; I am Aranella, Evan’s governess and, on occasion, bodyguard.”

Roland’s about to say something, but, “What’s going on Nella?” (He knows interrupting is bad manners, but he can break rules too)

She looks angry at the wall for a second, sighs, “it’s—Chancellor Mausinger is behind this. He means to kill you.”

And—

What?

(Maybe there are more words said after that, but he just—needs a moment)

Mausinger did this? But—Father and him were so close, like brothers, he wouldn’t.

Sure he’s been—distant, but that’s because Father left and Evan just isn’t ready yet. He wouldn’t—

He can’t. 

Because Father said that Mausinger and Nella would protect him and—Father was the king! His rules _can’t_ be broken—

Because if—if they could, then—

And Nella’s holding his shoulders, “Evan, can you hear me?” And he can _now._

He nods, because the words aren’t working.

“Ok, listen to me, we’re in danger here and we need to go, I know a secret route outside the border, and we’ll figure out what to do after. Escape first, alright?” 

And

Yeah, alright.

———

“It’s—Chancellor Mausinger is behind this. He means to kill you.”

Well, that was one way to break the news.

“Escape has to be prioritized, we’re way outnumbered. I should’ve seen this coming—no wonder the grimalkin forces have been dwindling,” a sharp sigh, “The rest of the maidens are preparing to leave with any of your soldiers they’ve saved, so you won’t be alone Evan—Evan?” And he was pulling the _this-isn’t-in-the-realm-of-possibility look,_ before Aranella gripped his shoulders, “Evan, can you hear me?” 

A—very small—nod. 

The escape plan was simple enough.

Secret route, though, like behind random furniture secret route? 

(Will and him had a—very important—debate over what types of secret passages were the ~~coolest~~ most useful. He firmly stood behind random passcode-bricks in the wall, for several reasons, but Will always argued for the bookshelves. Alex came up with a compromise, “what if—it was a library, and only _one_ bookshelf moved,” and that was that, for now.)

“But—Nella, Mausinger was Father’s most trusted. He’s reasonable, maybe if I could talk to him then—“

“No,” she seemed to realize how sharp that came out, but—

“This isn’t a spur-of-the-moment uprising. This was planned, and if all of the troupes are in on it,” minus the cat soldiers (grimalkin?), apparently, “then it must’ve been organized by someone in power.”

The _hall of dead bodies look_ was back—shattered? _Crushed_ seemed insensitive—and Aranella stepped back in, “I’m sorry, Evan, but we have to leave. Mausinger isn’t willing to see reason.”

Anyone who would order a castle full of soldiers to murder a twelve year old—he looked twelve, did cat people age differently?—hadn’t been reasonable for a while, he imagined.

Evan nodded again—the nods were always small—and Aranella led the way.

———

(Maybe there was a benefit to having this many rooms, if one this big—and full of people—could go unnoticed.)

———

(He let Aranella take over the talking, seeing as the other two options were him and the quietly-traumatized child, and neither were particularly good options, for different reasons.)

———

(“Take some of this, for your wounds,” and he was given some odd two-leaved plants by a—cat woman? Full bipedal cat.

‘Soreaway’, didn’t leave much room for questions, though, and for that, he was grateful. The less, the better.)

———

(“So—how do I use it?”

And she looked at him how Alex did the first time he tried to use a potato peeler, _‘how do you not know how to do this’_.

Soreaway did require questions, then.)

———

(Also, apparently, the answer to ‘are those ears real’ was: sometimes.

Which wasn’t helpful, but that was three questions down, so, at least, progress was being made.)

———

(Finally, they were out of that room. 

He kept getting _looks_ from the soreaway lady.)

———

(Were they _trying_ to sound bad? _‘Dark night’, ‘Black magic’_ , hell even _‘Chancellor Mausinger’_ , this was kid-show level here)

———

(How did the otherworldly technology know how to refill his gun? Were there guns in this world?)

———

“We’ll have to make you less conspicuous,” Aranella directed at his clothes, “those are quite obvious as being of Broadleaf make; you stick out as foreign,” and he just had to take her word for that.

That was right, he was wearing this suit because he was heading for—the summit. That was where. 

How did he forget something so important. 

And—what happened after? 

The meeting didn’t finish, did it? 

He just remembered the car, and it hurt to think, but it was there and he was so close— _light and pain_ —and there were clothes being shoved in his arms, along with a questioning look. 

He took them, nodded, and she seemed satisfied enough.

The memories slipped away again—and so did the headache, mostly—but he was patient, he would find out, eventually.

It was—he assumed—part of the guards’ uniforms, considering the abundance of them. An overcoat, though, for winter wear, maybe. It would be a bit hot, but the suit wasn’t much better, so, not much of a change. Oddly fitting, considering the only things he’d done since he’d—arrived (?) were protect Evan and only mildly question his situation. 

He slipped it on over the suit, and, luckily, it was a slightly larger size than he was, so it wasn’t as uncomfortable as it could’ve been.

The list of good things got ever-so-slightly longer.

“Suits me alright,” he finished the last button.

Either they didn’t know what his _suit_ was called, or they appreciate a pun, tragic. 

It also could’ve just been the atmosphere, which would be understandable.

(The part of him that had been suggesting he was dead had moved to suggesting he take this more seriously—and he was. But it was difficult when there were castles, magic, cat people, a place called _Ding Dong Dell_ , and many other contributing factors, so he really couldn’t be blamed for that.)

———

(Will won this one, of course it was a bookshelf)

———

If the antagonist was the chancellor, the secret entrance was the bookshelf, and the people they had to worry about had ‘dealt with dark and/or forbidden magics’, then he really shouldn’t have been surprised that the secret entrance led to the sewers. 

Which was the least of his worries, literally, but he didn’t have to like it.

Though, to be fair, they could’ve been worse. He didn’t know the standard for this place, but the water looked remarkably clear.

Which was good because they had to travel through it, and there was no way he’d be able to jump up that ledge, and climbing would be uncomfortable in this, but better safe than—

And he made it

Which was weird, because he only has to learn a lesson once (usually), and he’d learned _that_ one a long time ago, the concussion was not worth it.

And he’d—he wouldn’t’ve gotten better at scaling by getting less athletic. 

Wait—

No.

He tossed the sword in his arm and caught it, and he _knew_ it felt lightweight but he thought that was just how these swords were.

Was _gravity lighter?_

(The one time— _one time_ —he’d found an actual useful answer and it had this effect. 

This was _not_ boding well.)

It wasn’t enough to feel unnatural, but he definitely noticed it now.

Which was not to say he _disliked_ it, but this was definitely feeling way more real and unfamiliar than he’d been ready for.

He would just focus on the important things: he could make higher jumps and swords felt better in his hands, (not the fact that he was on an entirely _unfamiliar planet_ with magic and castles and cat people) those were the important points.

Two more things to add to the—significantly smaller than his list of questions—list of good things.

Which was completely undone by the _jello skeleton._

Jelly skeleton? 

Skelly jelly. 

Skeleton in gelatin. 

Not that it mattered when it had a _giant sword_ , (which was definitely more threatening than his apparently-standard-issue one) and everything was wrong again. 

(It was never right, but it was slightly less incorrect, before, when good things were happening)

Evan had been looking at him oddly after the jump-turned-crisis, though, luckily, the fight distracted him enough to not pursue it.

(Also, it was a _skeleplasm_

Close enough)

———

The sewers are awful, water keeps getting in his tail— _gross_ water—then his tail doesn’t move as well and it’s not _his_ fault he tripped.

Everything today is the worst, everything. Except for the fact that Nella’s here. 

But ‘escape first’ and he’s _not_ thinking about it. 

He can’t believe Mausinger though, how can he do this? And all of the mousekin soldiers. How long have they been wanting him out of the way? Did it start when Father died? Or today? Or _when he was born?_

Escape first. Escape first then we’ll think, she said. 

But—that’s a newer rule and he’s already technically not following it, so—

“Nella?” She looks at him (after slashing through a goo, which are gross and also the worst), “do you—did,” (the words _aren’t working_ ), “did Mausinger do this because of me? Because I became King?”

And she looks kind of sad now, but she didn’t before (so that look is for him, even though his people are dead and he couldn’t save them).

She doesn’t say anything, just looking oddly conflicted (about what?) before Roland speaks up.

“I doubt it, in my experience, these things are never that simple,” (he tries to wipe his sword of Skeleplasm on a rock), “I couldn’t help but notice a species divide here,” (mumbled something about _‘if the ears were real’?_ Of _course_ they are. Also of _course_ that doesn’t work. Skeleplasm sticks, why is he _frustrated_ ).

“Yes,” Nella sighs, “relations between the grimalkin and the mice have never been entirely civil. After King Leonhards—ah— _passing_ , it’s become more tense.”

“What?” And—he knows their history but everything seemed fine now, the workers in the palace are _never_ like that. They’re always kind to each other.

“The palace isn’t exactly standard for behavior in the city,” because she always knew what he was thinking, somehow.

Roland huffs, like that’s a joke or something, and he’s walking away, but Nella isn’t done.

“There’s...actually something I’ve been meaning to mention, Evan,” and she never hesitates so this is going to be big, but nothing could beat _‘Mausinger did this_ , he means to kill you’ so.

“I ahm— _talked_ to,” threatened probably, “one of the soldiers that ambushed me earlier. Mausinger has been planning this since before Leonhards passing, which he—,” a sigh that sounded like a borderline _growl_ , “instigated.”

It—what

Father’s passing that Mausinger—

Why would—and—no he _couldn’t_ have—

Everything’s too loud again.

He can’t do this.

Because—no, that’s not what they said and he _knew_ , “Nella, he didn’t—father was sick remember?” 

(He was sick and he wasn’t there and he _left_ and Evan had to _watch—_ )

“A poison. Slow acting, as well.”

“Then—“ and he can’t, “but—“, why is breathing so hard _all the time_ he just—

She’s hugging him, now, and he just wants to cry so bad, but they had to escape first. This should’ve come later. He doesn’t want to _know this._

(Father trusted Mausinger with his _life_ —and Mausinger just took it away. 

_Why?_

Why is everything going wrong? When did it start? How does he _stop it_?)

He won’t break, he’s gotten through everything so far and he has to get out first, and a few tears escaping is fine because he _won’t_ break.

Footsteps.

“Just cleared out the area ahea—what happened?”

And Roland is back, so they can move now and he can breathe again. 

(But maybe Nella can take over the talking, because now even his words aren’t listening to him)

“Something personal,” she stands,”also, while that was efficient, it was dangerous. Don’t ever fight monsters alone, (everyone knows that),” she kneads her forehead, “at least not fully prepared.”

Confusion, “how much more prepared can I get in this context?”

“By using skills—cantrips is the actual term but nobody ever uses that,” a huff (she also mumbles ‘Broadleaf is too uneducated’, and he takes offense on Roland’s behalf), “over here,” she waves him over.

He follows.

———

“If you could close your eyes for me,” which sounded like a request, but he knew better. 

(Even though he really didn’t want to, why would he have to close his eyes to learn something? Wouldn’t that be counterproductive?)

So he did—reluctantly—and nothing happened, for a moment, before he felt some sort of a—tug was the best way to describe it. It felt like something was being pulled out, and it was mildly uncomfortable because it felt like the something wanted to stay _not_ -pulled out.

There was a soft, but odd intake, and his eyes snapped open to see Aranella looking mildly frustrated at nothing. 

“It seems you’re only able to use physical skills, strange,” and that was the look she’d directed at him back when fireball-lady was only recently disposed. 

It was gone before he could ask, though.

“Either way, they should be of some assistance.”

And they were moving again, like nothing had happened and it felt like nothing had happened (for him. _Something_ had happened earlier for Evan at least, but that wasn’t his business), if he didn’t count the weird way he felt oddly attached to any of the swords he’d picked up now. 

Like they were extensions of him, and he had to have one available, as if losing a blade would be as bad as losing an arm.

The way that force seemed to ripple out of the blade during certain strikes (that skelet—skele _plasm_ —Literally _flew_ ) made those instincts seem more reasonable, because neither of his arms could do _that_.

Aranella fell in step with him, at one point. 

“Something’s up with your magic, thought you should know.”

And, yeah, that made sense.

“You don’t seem surprised,” _The Look_ was back again (he really did need to get better at masking expressions, he’d thought Alex was just messing with him).

“I haven’t needed to use any, before now.”

And she looked—momentarily—baffled, before, “that’s true, I’ve heard many of Broadleaf’s citizens don’t rely on the arts.”

He really spent more time with The Look than he’d like to have.

“Do you really have no idea how you got here? Only magic could’ve transported you like that,” but then she stopped herself (and mumbled to herself, or maybe she was just thinking out loud, something about _‘travel...trip doors (?)...runes...magics_ ,’ and he couldn’t decipher any of that).

She backed off after, though.

He didn’t know what she’d meant by ‘something’s up’, but he was— _mildly_ intimidated. 

So he’d just have to add another question to the list.

(That he’d get to

Later.)

———

They’re ( _finally_ ) getting out of here. Nella said there’s a bridge up ahead and they’re so close and—

It’s broken?

That bridge can’t be crossed.

There’s still dust everywhere (dust is the worst) and his nose is just twitching and _where did that sneeze go._

Roland’s looking over the edge, “this was recent; they aren’t far, so either they’re ahead of us...or—“

And there are footsteps behind them (how did he miss armored shoes? Stupid water and dust and _thoughts_ ).

It’s a lot of guards (skeleplasms?) and the black knight and Vermine and—Mausinger.

(Anger is _awful._

It changes _everything_ and he hates feeling it, but he felt it there and it’s written _all over Mausinger_ )

“Ah, your Majesty, how surprising to find you here,” he’s never seen that expression before. What did he do wrong? Why does someone feel this way because of him?

Roland and Aranella are in front of him now, but he can’t look away.

“As much as it pains me to tell you, your illustrious line will end, today. Black Knight, would you like the honor?” And Mausinger— _Father’s most trusted_ —steps aside to let—

(He never speaks, and is rarely seen, but stories have been told and spread and _heard_ )

(The Black Knight never speaks, so others must speak for him, they said)

(He was mouskin at one point, he is no longer, they said)

(He has defeated the tainted monsters around Dell, they said)

(The dark magic wasn’t in the earth, so where did it go?)

“There’s nowhere to run, boy. If you come quietly you won’t suffer long,” and he’s getting closer—

There _is_ nowhere to run—

He’s going to die here and Nella and Roland have to go with him because he isn’t _good enough_ and it isn’t fair and—

And Nella is wearing _that_ look, the same one she wore when she swore she’d protect him.

“You two, go. I’ll hold him off for as long as I can.”

She—what? 

But that’s—she’ll—and she _can’t—_

She can’t do that ( _why is everything going wrong_ ) she can’t.

Nella looks at Roland, and _he_ must know what that look means because they’re falling.

(Roland and Evan are)

And Nella’s just back there and he needs to go up and nothing’s _listening—_

It’s cold, they hit the water, it’s cold _er_ , and he can’t breathe.

———

There was a time where he’d blacked out, because there was a prominent gap between locking eyes with Aranella and gasping to the surface of the river holding Evan.

They were very lucky that said river wasn’t any more shallow. From the shore, he could very clearly see rocks that had been—most likely— _narrowly_ missed.

He had no idea how long Aranella could last, though.

(While he hadn’t spent much time here, the fact that their only ally had to sacrifice herself—and probably break the child laying next to him in the process—was pretty painful.)

They had to move, though, and while he didn’t want to wake Evan up to a reality in which his maternal figure had most likely lost her life for them, they had to ensure they wouldn’t meet the same fate.

He propped Evan back up and pat him on the back until he finally leaned forward and coughed out the riverwater. He was definitely too cold too, maybe there was something in that pack he could use.

Or—the (past) King cat child could produce fire from his hands.

The question list was getting extensive. 

“Evan? Evan we have to go.”

“Hm? But...” everything must’ve snapped back, then, “Nella! No she’s—we have to go back and,” he started before he buckled over, coughing.

“Calm down,” if he hurt himself that would be—somehow—worse than their current situation. “If we go back there we’ll be captured at best, and at worst—,” the thought of him _dying_ seemed to pull at something, which was not reassuring at all, “we have to keep going, or she’ll have given her life for nothing.”

He’d had a lot of bad moments in his life, as to be expected of any politician, or just—person. In general. But seeing all of that hope turn to grief was undoubtedly up there, nearing first place, that refused to be replaced even though he couldn’t quite remember what was up there.

The tears were already welling, “I—“ the voice made worse from the coughing didn’t help disguise any of the shattering grief the kid felt either, “given her—you mean she’s...”

He really could not deal with any of this, emotions were not his strongest suit, “...I think we have to assume that.”

The bandaid strategy did not work for death.

He _knew_ that, and yet.

He had to swallow before he spoke, “come on. We need to keep going. We’re almost there, right?”

———

When Aranella had said they were close, she was right. The exit was just up ahead, and Evan had already started running. 

Before they were blocked off by a wall of the most wrong feeling fire he’d ever felt. 

(Was it fire? It didn’t really feel hot in the way fire did, but he knew if he touched it, it wouldn’t be good.)

Those footsteps belonged to—

He’d assumed right before, then. Still hurt.

———

He just wants to go and he’s _back_ and if _he’s_ here then Nella is—

And Roland said to assume that but seeing him _here_ —and everything feels wrong because of that awful fire.

Roland’s stepping in front of him, though, and—

He can’t move even though he was _just here_ and it _hurts—_

“Stay back,” it was quiet, “I’ll figure something out.”

A rule

———

He tried to keep their blades from colliding, because every time they did he felt like he was _this_ close to dislocating something. 

The knight clearly had a one track mind, get Roland out of the way, then Evan. So as long as he could just not die, they’d be fine.

But the way those flames had felt on his skin—like they were trying to _twist_ something, a _very_ uncomfortable and awful feeling—when they’d only grazed him did not bode well. 

He was running out of breath too, even de-aging didn’t make one’s lungs last forever. 

He rolled under a sweep of fire from the knight’s sword, and pinned his own to the ground to breathe because he just needed a moment.

A moment the Black Knight apparently also needed, because he had stopped in his tracks, hunched over, and was that—smoke? 

‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire’ apparently also applied to evil mouse knights who used ‘forbidden magics’, because that one just exploded into it and turned into a—mouse centaur. How did that armor still fit him?

Which was _not_ the important thing to think about when said giant— _apparently fire-breathing—mouse centaur_ was charging at him with the _fire that came from it’s mouth._

The sword didn’t want to dodge with him, its loss, he rolled to the side and reequipped into the—hopefully more effective—broadsword, now that there wasn’t armor to sneak hits through.

Not that it really mattered—not when whatever sword one had would be shredded under the giant mouse centaur’s _giant mouse centaur claws._

They were going to die.

( _‘They were going to die—that missile was at point blank range and nobody could survive—‘_ )

What?

Now was not the time for those—now was not the time for _thinking_ so _stop doing it—_

( _‘He wasn’t there. He wasn’t with them. Why wasn’t he with them when they would—‘_ )

—and MOVE.

———

He can’t do anything—

He dropped his knife in the fall earlier and he doesn’t have his arms band and he was _stupid_ and too focused on escape to pick up _any_ of the swords those enemies earlier had dropped.

(At least with Nella he didn’t _have to watch_ )

(He’s already watched once—isn’t that _enough?_ )

He wants so bad to look away, but he wants more for everything to be over, so he won’t. He can’t. 

It’s probably not a good enough punishment for causing the death of the only three people who cared about him, but it’s the best he can do.

———

There was fire coming straight for him and he needed to—

He got out of the way, mostly.

His right leg wasn’t as lucky.

A lot of things happened in that moment. He screamed, because that hurt worse than anything (even, he bet, whatever used to be on top of that list). 

He fell, because he couldn’t stand with his leg feeling like that. 

There had been weird almost detached-and-then-surprised emotions coming from—somewhere (he wasn’t _detached_ from this situation at all, the surprise made sense though). 

Those had happened, the twisted feeling snapped away, which was nice, but the pain hadn’t.

And his chest was being compressed because the—previously a very intimidating knight—somehow _more_ intimidating _giant mouse centaur_ had decided that using its body as a weight to keep him down would be most effective at keeping him immobile, and it was.

It was building fire in it’s mouth, however that worked, and everything hurt, he probably had a couple of broken ribs, his leg wasn’t on fire but it still felt like it, and suddenly he was back in the car.

( _‘“What’s that?” And Wright didn’t talk much, so whatever it was must’ve been—_

_What?_

_A streak of—a missile?_

_Headed straight towards—_

_They were going to die—everyone was going to die—that missile was at point blank range and nobody could survive—_

_Alex and Will were there. They were in Drager’s hospital and he wasn’t there. He wasn’t with them. Why wasn’t he with them when they would all—_

_The heat was the worst part._

_Or maybe the glass shattering into his skin._

_Or maybe the steel folding, constricting, uncaring about its occupants._

_Everything was on fire, he couldn’t tell if that was literal too, but, most likely._

_There wasn’t anything he could do, though, only wait, while the roaring of the explosion’s effects faded into silence._

_It’d end soon, hopefully._

_And then._

_It felt like he was waking up from being blacked out.’_ )

(The top two spots were tied, he decided)

Dying twice in one day wasn’t a record he thought he’d be breaking.

Except—it was turning. The fire was being aimed at—

Failing to protect two children from death wasn’t either.

———

Roland’s going to die. 

He’s going to die and it’s all Evan’s fault.

But, the Black Knight is turning his way.

If he died first, then at least he wouldn’t have to see it happen again.

He doesn’t move as the fire approaches, and he doesn’t know why, he just can’t.

But—

(Someone else could.)

He didn’t mean it, earlier, when he said he deserved to watch.

———

Aranella just—how did she—

It didn’t matter, though, because apparently the Black Knight was still human (mouse?) enough to feel surprise. It’s pressure loosened. Roland kneed the giant claw off with his good leg, propping himself up and loading his gun.

The Black Knight overbalanced, which gave Roland time to aim for it’s eye. 

It roared and staggered towards the edge of the cliff, and he was not taking chances. Grabbing a now crushed leaf of soreaway, he applied the paste to his leg—

( _A sigh from said full-bipdal cat—he should’ve expected more than just the ears, but still—“you eat the leaves. It’s more effective to rub crushed soreaway on a wound, but you can only do that if it’s exposed, which, in armor, usually isn’t the case.”_

 _She added something about ‘a grown man not knowing how soreaway works’, which he didn’t really have an explanation for that she would understand_ )

—and rushed forward, and finally (finally) the Black Knight wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

He didn’t feel bad at all about _that_ one, your honor.

He did, however, feel bad about the scene Evan had just witnessed.

———

She said she’d always be there for him when it was hard.

“Evan...I’m sorry,” why is she sorry? She wasn’t the cause of everything— “I—I want you to know that..in our time together, I’ve come to think of you as,” and he _knows_ and she’s coughing because she’s—and she _has to stay._

He already had to watch once and she’s here now and everything’s going wrong so _she has to stay—_

“You have to,” a breath, “to promise me...That you’ll build a kingdom. Where everyone can live happily,”—not _alone_ —and she’s reaching for him, but his hands are already there and _too shaky._

“You’re strong, Evan,”—but he’s _not_ —“I know you can,” and her hand is so weak.

He’s never been strong, it’s always been his staff (which was lost) or the rules (which were breaking) or Father (who left) or Nella (and she’s leaving—)

(And he can’t cry because—he’s—he was going to be King! And Kings can’t—but he’s not and it’s all gone and—)

And she’s smiling, and brushing off some of his tears, and then—

Her hand falls.

And he can’t breathe because everything is too loud and she _can’t_ be gone and he isn’t supposed to be a child today but he’s crying and it hurts and he can’t _breathe—_

It isn’t even raining anymore.

(And that’s every rule, broken)

———

When Aranella’s hand fell, it felt like the last straw.

(He didn’t know if he’d ever forget those cries.)

He wanted to comfort Evan, no child should have to feel the pain he felt, but—

Voices, “I hear something,” they were here, “is it them?” And they were far, “this way!” But not far enough.

“Evan—we have to leave”, and his voice sounded more shaky than he wanted it to, but he couldn’t really be blamed for that. He grabbed the boy’s hand, but he didn’t fight it like last time.

(Evan gasped and reached out—a choked, “Nella—,” escaped him, and that just hurt to hear—but there wasn’t any force behind it.)

But then, and he didn’t know what happened, but something did. In that moment, it felt like the air shifted. 

A decisiveness crossed Evan’s eyes, and he shut them, rooted facing her.

He mumbled something, something about a promise? ‘I promise’ maybe? It was too quiet to hear, but he looked up and met Roland’s gaze.

And the course of action was clear.

So they ran.

(There was heavy grief there, but there was also determination—and maybe a bit of spite—in those eyes. 

Whatever the kid had decided to do, it was big.)

———

They were hidden enough, he hoped. It was hard enough to find this place, even with Evan’s—very thorough—directions before he’d just about passed out, ( _“‘s a cave..kinda..hidden b’tween s’me cliffs...not far fr’m here. ‘S outside’f the border..”_ ) so they should be safe. They—and his legs—had earned a break.

He set Evan down on the softest patch of earth there was, along with the blanket in the supplies (since a passed out and exhausted (past) King cat child could not produce fire from his hands). There wasn’t a second, he mused, maybe Aranella had kept hers in her own arms band.

Not that it mattered, there was no way he could sleep; there was too much to process, and they needed a night watch, anyway—and a fire, it was probably too cold for Evan with only a blanket.

It had come back to him during the fight, earlier, everything that had happened. It was probably all of the light, and he’d felt pretty similar emotions across the two instances, as well. Part of him wished he hadn’t remembered, but he knew himself. If he hadn’t remembered, he would’ve kept searching until he did. 

He wasn’t one to give up, for all that did him.

And, he didn’t really know what he thought.

Everything was just gone? Was he stuck here?

There was no way to check, really. Not now, at least.

He had long ago come to terms that, yes, even sometimes, he needed to cry, but it ached because he wasn’t. He just felt oddly empty, and cold. Everything seemed oddly far away, then.

That could’ve just been the night air, though, which would’ve been worse, because night air shouldn’t’ve chilled the inside, and there was a fire right there.

What does one do after they’ve lost everything? He didn’t even have anything to fall back on if even the _gravity_ here was different.

If this was how he felt now, though, would he eventually forget everything?

And the cliffs surrounding them suddenly seemed a bit too close, and he needed to get out, just to breathe for a moment, which hadn’t been a problem, earlier, but it was now. 

The pain from his various bruises and his almost-ok leg flaring as he climbed was a welcome distraction.

A gust of wind hit his eyes, that stung, and it was colder, but it was a little better. Maybe. The view was nice, at least. 

(Even at night, and while his legs were still too tired, for several perfectly valid reasons, so if he needed to sit down, that was fine.)

He still had his phone, didn’t he?

It was still in his suit pocket, and the screen was cracked, so maybe it—but it worked (thank god).

The screen was way too bright, and the settings still had that ping attached—he could never find out how to get rid of that one. 

( _“Dad—no, just give it to me. Ugh—set it up and then cancel it later. No—you don’t have to actually use it, you can turn it off after—I know it’s stupid but I didn’t design it”_ )

But their faces were there.

And he’d never see them again, after the battery ran out. There wouldn’t be any preserving it since it kept looking for a signal, so, he could look a little while longer.

They were probably dead and he’d never know. 

He could be dead and he’d never know.

( _“It’s just so much—Alex I,” the burning in his throat wasn’t helping, “I don’t know if I can do it, I don’t know if I can do anything,” and he shouldn’t have sounded like that._

_But her hand was on his shoulder, “I don’t know either, but we have to try, that’s what you said, right?”_

_And he had to stay strong, for everyone, for Alex, for Will, but it was crushing and his breath sounded wrong just then and she saw—_

_She saw and she was still there, of course she was, and basically holding him, and her eyes looked as watery as his felt “you know you can cry in front of me, right?”_ )

And it did feel a bit better than the nothing from earlier, so, he didn’t fight it.

———

That was a _really weird_ dream.

It’s cold so he tugs the blanket closer, but it un-hitches from his feet. Why is his blanket so—oh...he’s not at the—right. 

Maybe he could just sleep for a bit later and everything would go back to...

Where’s Roland? 

He’s definitely up _now_ —where did he go?

“R—Roland?”

There’s shuffling from—somewhere. Up? At least his ears were back to functioning normally now (and at least Roland’s _still here_ ).

There’s also a faint salt smell, so he’ll just follow that.

Roland was on the edge of the rock outcropping, apparently, he’s standing and looking over the rolling hills as the sun starts to rise.

“Why’re you up here?”

He startles around, “oh—sorry. I was about to come down. Lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

He’s seen this view from his window plenty of times, but, unobscured by glass, it feels way more open. Everything yesterday really _happened._

It’s still a lot.

“I really am in another world...”

And—“What?” Is that what those weird runes were? And why Roland doesn’t seem to know—anything?

He huffs a laugh, but there wasn’t any joke, “I don’t really know why I’m here, though,” and he has that look when you’re looking at something that isn’t there, “there’s no Ding Dong Dell where I’m from, or any place with a view like this.”

Both of those are weird to think about, so, “Nella told me stories about parallel worlds, but I thought they were just tales,” except he doesn’t want to think too hard about the fact that she’s gone forever because of him either. “What—what did you do? In your world.”

Roland crosses his arms, “I was...I was a president.”

A what? 

“Being a king is—comprable, in some ways I guess,” how did they always know what he was thinking?

He’s silent for a moment, and silence isn’t nice when there’s too much, but Evan’s not sure what to say.

“In those stories, was there ever a way to get back?” Why does he look guilty? He didn’t even actually want to come here. 

“No I—not that I remember.”

He hums with the tone Nella had used whenever the castle librarian didn’t have what she’d been looking for. It had also been used when Colby overslept and didn’t get to his post on time, and not the usual ‘talk’. He later learned that Colby was a new recruit, at the time.

Tense silence is the worst.

“If you were a king before, then you can help me though. And we’re bound to find your way back eventually.”

Roland shifts, “what are you planning? You have the opportunity to go anywhere you want, right now,” he pauses, “a quiet life in the mountains might not be so bad, a get-away from all of this while you can...”

“No,” the decisiveness surprises both of them. “I’m going to keep my promise to Nella. I’m going to make a kingdom where everyone can live happily.”

(Why does Roland’s smile look like he found that funny?)

(That wasn’t a joke)

(There’s a little pride in there too, though; he can recognize that and has a word for it)

Roland’s made a decision too, apparently. 

“Alright, I’ll help you out where I can,” a pause, and he looks back over towards the horizon, “I won’t pursue my own world until you have allies. That, I promise you,” a sigh and he looks back over, “that alright with you?”

And. 

Yeah, alright.

Silences like this, where there’s calm, even for a little bit, _are_ nice, he decides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Democratic Union of Andoria ripped from TheSkyLarkin and their au because it’s legendary (even though I’m not finished reading yet, but that is what inspired this thing. Go read The Gap in the Doorway please and ty)
> 
> **Edit I started to reread For King and Country recently and I stole Alex too ?? Oops. Go read that too if you haven’t already
> 
> Because Kingdom names are hard. In my au outline it’s all just “[whatever it’s named]”, love that for me
> 
> I had to look at the wiki a couple of times—there is an absolute legend still updating that, love that guy, doing the absolute most—and it says “Roland is a widower, and has a son named William”  
> And like  
> I didn’t remember the game saying his spouse died before ‘the incident’. And I’m not about to scan the transcript. So. I took creative liberties, and they’re (were? Ouch) alive  
> >party popper  
> idk everyone’s head-canons; hope them being a woman is ok with y’all  
> I took some with the dialogue too, just because  
> I don’t think it’s farfetched for them to have died or left or smth but my brain just does things sometimes and this was one of those
> 
> Also, the reason for the ratio of Roland to Evan pov leaning toward the former is because it’s just more fun to write for me  
> Ramble-y thoughts are great, but I can’t throw in as much sarcasm and repetition and. Ig just . Dumb stuff . In Evan’s, so. Oops  
> Skeleton in gelatin  
> Evan can’t give you that, a tragedy 
> 
> Probably won’t do anything with this (don’t hold me to that, because I’m notorious for ‘makes a decision oh wait nope never mind’ so  
> Who knows, but, most likely, I won’t do anything with it)
> 
> I mostly just wanted to make something longer than the first ever—fanfic? It’s technically a fanfic of a fanfic, and it’s not good, but it’s 8k words and it bugged me that that was the longest thing I’d written  
> So  
> This  
> >cheap confetti


	2. Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus content
> 
> **They’re all in Roland or Evan pov except for the second to last one which is a surprise Leander pov :)
> 
> **The very last one is like uh  
> An au of an au ?  
> I made an au  
> And that was my scrapped beginning for it  
> Tani pov because that’s my daughter  
> Theres more info at the bottom :)
> 
> **Spoilers (? It’s mentioned) for the ‘tale of a timeless tome’ dlc in the paragraph after the first large paragraph-y section in the bottom notes  
> **another spoiler thing in the last scene of this note theres mentioning of a game mechanic in the ‘lair of the lost lord’ dlc
> 
> Enjoy ig
> 
> >off-tune party blower

———  
:)  
———

And—did Evan just do _his_ thinking pose?

Alex always made fun of him for that, and now there were two.

Hopefully Aranella could forgive him, somehow.

(And if he sent a quick prayer, just in case, nobody would question it)

———  
:)  
———

Seeing other people in the—sky gliders? Sky _skimmers_ , is much different than actually being in one. 

He’s been high up before, his room was in a tower after all, but the rush and the wind isn’t something he’s experienced before.

He likes it, maybe his new kingdom could have things like this. Except bigger, because while Tani and him could fit in here, it couldn’t fit too much more. 

The scenery as they pass, though, it’s like seeing the paintings in the palace guest rooms right in front of him, and it’s amazing.

They were going higher now, and it’s hard to repress the urge to laugh how Tani is right now, it is thrilling though. They level out, wind rushing against his hair, he’ll have to fix that later, but then—

Ow.

And his ears feel weird.

Not—well, it does hurt a bit, but it’s just uncomfortable, and he doesn’t want to feel like that now so if he’s tucking them in a bit it’s _fine._

It’s not going away though.

Maybe he’d let other people take the sky skimmer rides when he’s King.

“What’re you pouting about?”

He’s not _pouting—_

———  
:)  
———

He was on time, a miracle, and a very welcome one.

Alex was already at Will’s bedside, reading—something. (There was _something_ on that cover. He’d look into glasses. Later.)

But before he even got a word in—“Dad! You’ll never guess what happened today.”

And no, he probably wouldn’t, but that wouldn’t deter him. 

Every time he visited Will was playing some game on his phone, not that that’d ever replace books ( _‘that’s an insult to books. Plus, my eyes are sensitive, look at my brightness level’, wait—the phone was on?_ ).

“Have you found a new game?”

And Will just smiled.

The basic, “finish a new book?”

It got wider.

Difficult. “Uh—that album you were excited about? What’s her name...” he’s always been better with lyrics.

Alex was grinning too, so something was up, “ok, fine, what happened today?”

“I won my first ever debate against you” and the smile got even wider—how did he do that.

“But I wasn’t here until like a minute ago.”

“Well, I asked all of the nurses today a very important question,” and that didn’t narrow it down at all; every debate with Will was about something very important.

Then he fully turned, legs draped over the side of the bed, “bricks? Or bookshelf?”

(Alex closed the book, because if she kept it like that until they were done, it would want to stay like that) 

“You didn’t win then, obviously I’m right. Why would you ever choose the bookshelf, it’s so stereotypical and obvious.”

“The vote was unanimous.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’d never.”

“Because there’s no way all of them are just incorrect”

“This is slander”

And Alex stifling a giggle about a very serious matter (and if he was fighting a smile, nobody would point it out).

“Where’s the evidence?”

“Your trust in me”

“I need the receipts”

“It’s about the atmosphere, Dad”

“What’s the point of a secret room if it’s not a secret?”

“It doesn’t have to be a _secret_ secret room, just a room with a really cool door, that’s also a bookshelf, two in one. What are those bricks doing?”

“That defeats the purpose—”

“Guys“, Alex had her hands out, “the library.”

But they both knew what that meant. 

He let the smile go free, because fine, he won once, _one time_ , but that’s all he’ll get. 

Will’s expression, however, said otherwise.

———  
:)  
———

_Tap tap tap_

It isn’t even that obvious, so it shouldn’t really be as distracting as it is.

_Tap tap tap_

He is a proud child of grimalkin blood, but sometimes—

_Tap tap tap_

And she’s saying something, but it’s kind of difficult to focus, and that’s his ears’ fault.

_Tap tap tap_

She always gets like this when she has a new idea or something, and then she tries to explain it—and it’s never _one_ thing, it always _starts_ as one thing but then she leaves coming to some conclusion (and they always have very different conversations, if what he’s doing is considered conversing) and he’s never understood—

That’s the routine, and all of that is great.

_Tap tap tap_

Because he loves Bracken, honestly and truly, but is the leg bouncing _really_ necessary.

———  
:)  
———

He walked in to find Roland already seated, which wasn’t unusual, the expression he wore wasn’t either, being practically his default.

“What’s on your mind?”

When he got so lost in his thoughts he _jumped_ when another noise made itself known, that (usually) meant it wasn’t work related.

“When I have my birthday—will I be 21 or 49?”

It was ironic who’d walked in on him this time; even after 300 years, he’d yet to come up with an answer.

———  
:)  
———

She’d done it. She’d lasted the entire month without ‘becoming friends’ with any of those ‘guests’. They were suitors. It was obvious, she wasn’t _stupid._

Father was the only person—besides Mausinger on a _good_ day—that was protecting her from having to deal with them. 

(Not that she couldn’t, because she _could_ and she _did_ , but it was just annoying when she’d already made up her mind not to feel anything towards those young men—nothing against them. Except the older ones, because that was just creepy.)

(The handmaidens were great, but, unfortunately, they held no political power over those stupid advisors. She was getting rid of _those_ first)

And now he’s gone which is still—a lot.

It was nice to be taken seriously by someone (and to not hurt as much, but nobody needed to know that).

But she couldn’t think about that now, because she was becoming the first queen of Ding Dong Dell today, and nobody was stopping her. Nobody.

Not even whoever was deciding to just—send her soldiers off to who knows where. Only the grimalkin, and there was _something_ there. (Nobody ever ran anything past her. It was infuriating.)

(And she couldn’t even read who’d done it because _everyone_ has been acting weird lately)

Aranella had tried to keep that from her too, probably to keep her from _worrying_ , but she was fine. She had everything under control, or at least she would today because she’ll finally be queen (the first ever) and everything would make sense. 

The thunder was annoying though, it kept snapping her out of her thoughts.

And then there was a light behind her—so they were planning something after-

Before he could hit the ground the intruder was pinned with a knife to his throat, terror stricken (they always thought she was a damsel, idiots).

His clothes, though, were not recognizable as in any of the many (many) texts she’d read, but then again, neither were those runes.

“Who are you?”

He was breathing too fast, which hadn’t been a reaction she’d seen before, and for a normal person, she would have taken her knee off their chest. 

But this person had teleported in with very powerful magics (even she, someone with ‘not as much magical talent as expected of the royal line’—everyone in this castle was _the worst_ —could recognize that), and nothing about this very brief interaction was normal so far.

He wasn’t answering— _ignoring her_ —which was not a good choice, and it never was.

“By the gods answer me or I’ll kill you before you get to explain yourself,” and she hadn’t had to actually take a life before, but considering how her own palace was around her (they were apparently _‘great compared to the rest of the world’_ , a _great_ vote of confidence Marlene), she would have to sooner or later. 

She was fine, and knew what to do.

“I—what?” The man stuttered like he didn’t just—use whatever spell that was to try and—do _something_ nefarious, “am I dead?”

Was this some kind of trick? 

This was a new one at least.

“No, if you were this wouldn’t be a—“ but then the ground shook. An explosion? Intruders at the palace? Why hadn’t she heard anything—nobody tells her _anything._

And her people were guarding her outside, she needed to make sure they would survive, they were under her protection (the entire palace was, technically, but the two outside her chambers’ were _her_ guards).

The intruder was having some sort of episode, very panicky—wasn’t he part of this?—but he didn’t seem _dangerous._

(She wouldn’t be tricked again. 

But those were her people. And they _needed_ her. 

They were being attacked while she was sitting here with some—super powerful magical— _guy_. 

She had to go. She had to. 

If this was the leader she’d just—deal with it later)

“By Zayin and whatever maker you hail from, if you make me regret this, you won’t have time to apologize.”

That better have been threatening enough.

(She’s off now so he can breathe normally, that had been distracting.)

She had to protect her people. This man had only gotten in her room and she’d handled herself fine—

( _“We traditionally use knives,” the maid pulled a dagger out of her sleeve—not her arms band, weird._

_“If you can spot the weak points in your enemy, you can coordinate your strikes to hit only those points,” setting up one of the dummies in the grounds, she added, “it’s not about how big and strong your weapon is, but how you use it.”_

_A series of three quick strikes brought it down, Aranella smirked and huffed a laugh, “we call it ‘Ding Dong Discipline’.”_ )

—but if there were more, and why was this staircase so _long?_

She swung open the door to reveal two mouse guards about to do the same. 

If they weren’t going after—they were safe?—they _orchestrated_ —they’d been planning this all along—

The left used her surprise— _damnit_ —and forced her on her knees, arms held behind her so tight it ached (and they had the audacity to look _guilty_ —)

The other unsheathed his sword and he _hesitated_ (if she was a _prince_ they wouldn’t be hesitating) and—

_Bang_

And there was a body.

Not hers, but the guard’s.

Killed by the intruder, (who honestly didn’t look any better than before).

The other guard had loosened his grip in shock. ( _Idiot_ ) She took her hands back, swinging and sweeping his legs out from under him, before she used her dagger from before to—

(And now there were two bodies. And she wouldn’t think about it. Even if it wasn’t part of the plan and it was _slipping_ )

( _“That’s the reason why you keep one hidden and on you at all times”_ )

“Those— _ugh_. I knew they were up to something.”

The intruder was still there.

Looking very dazed.

When _he_ made the _choice_ to come here. 

Idiot.

Better now than never, “why did you help?”

And he looked stunned for a second before, “there were explosions,” he took a breath before, “and they were going to kill you. You’re a child. Even though you’re-ah—abrasive, I don’t see a valid reason to kill a twelve year old.”

“Thirteen.”

That just added to the confusion, before, a very resigned, “thirteen.”

Tani huffed, cleaning her dagger of—because—she didn’t want to get it on her clothes.

(That was her subject and she’d seen _the life leave his eyes through the visor_ —so, if she felt a little off, it was ok this time, at least she was strong enough to not have been _sick_ or—makers forbid— _passed out._ )

“You still think you’re dead?”

“What—I—no.” A pause, “I don’t think.” (A mumbled, “Maybe.”)

Her glare was effective, at least, “come on then.”

“To...where?”

“To get some assistance, before I take my throne back.”

———  
:)  
———

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roland 🤝 the entirety of hydropolis  
> Birthday crisis-es plural
> 
> I hate Marlene because every time I see her name the entire vine plays. Every time. I want it to end
> 
> Also  
> A funky head-canon from yours truly:
> 
> The people running to Evan and Roland after Aranella died were the handmaidens and the able-bodied grimalkin soldiers  
> I don’t think Aranella would’ve let Evan be on his own after a coup, so before she went to go get Evan she asked the handmaidens to assist her in helping Evan escape and helping any injured  
> They were going to just wait in the room they were camped out in but then Evan showed up with Roland and Aranella and they were like “oh my god yeah protect that boy wtf” cuz like  
> They knew it was bad, obviously, child murder is bad, but then when the three of them walked in they were like “oh. Oh my god. That boy ain’t a king anymore he’s just traumatized”  
> Maybe Aranella talked to someone and told them to regroup later or something  
> And then they were going to do that, but Aranella was dead, Evan was out of it, and Roland wouldn’t recognize any of their voices, (the voices in the cutscene would’ve been the grimalkin soldiers, not the mouse guys. And even if Evan wasn’t ‘out of it’, he probably hasn’t made many personal connections with the guards, at least not close enough to recognize a random guard’s muffled voice yk) so Roland grabbed Evan and ran before the others could get to them  
> They were all set to go with their king and make an epic kingdom and then they found Aranella and were like “well. Ok. Ouch. Uh. Let’s hope Evan’s not dead ig? Damn.” 
> 
> Just thought it was funky how when the handmaidens found Aranella in the 3rd high higgledy there was nobody else around? Like if they came later why would Aranella still be there
> 
> Wack
> 
> Anyway
> 
> For the au   
> Idk if ill ever actually make it, id like to, but my brain is stupid and i make lots of commitments and then just >what if i didn’t  
> And i don’t want to do that  
> So no promises  
> But. Im thinking about it  
> If anyone else wants to take a crack at it be my guest  
> Its basically just tani and evan said reverse reverse.  
> Might make them a bit older too just because it’s hard to sound twelve in descriptions, as shown in this entire thing. How does one sound young and not angry  
> In the actual outline i have though, Roland doesn’t appear during the coup, he pops up while Evan is being stupid (wyverns have feelings too guys :) Wait. Wait no i came here to talk wait stop) and gets initiated into plot
> 
> My first thought about this au was “bro if roland showed up in tani’s room during the coup she’d just 🔪”  
> But then i thought about it and i was like. Mm. No.  
> Because the whole reason why the first act ? Prologue > part. In the game. Works is because Evan doesn’t take action so Roland has to. He’s like ‘that’s a small boy wtf’ and by the time he processes shit he’s like. Welp. Im committed.   
> In this au though it’d just end up as like “? why am i here. Why is there an aggressive child. Where is she going ?? do i just . Stay here. Tf”  
> So  
> Doesn’t work   
> Rip
> 
> I, as a whole being, am very happy this fandom hasn’t died, because even though the game is not anything too extraordinary, my brain said, “these are my adopted kids now,” and that’s kind of annoying when the community around said thing has the potential to be >barren wasteland sounds
> 
> The fandom is really out here doing so much for it and nobody acknowledges it. I acknowledge it. This fandom deserves more, honestly. Everyone puts in the work.
> 
> Im gunna fade into the ether now, until I decide to un-fade, which is for an undetermined interval, so yeah. 
> 
> >peace sign   
> >fades


End file.
